Carnage
by deadaccwalkin
Summary: EDIT: I'm probably gonna scrap 'Carnage' because I am not at all pleased with what I've written: too much angst, little to no logic in plot, OOC-ness, spazztic writing, etc. I may end up rewriting it once I rethink things but for now it's not going to be updated until then. Sorry.
1. ((Please read))

_Scrapped. ^^" Please allow me to direct you to the revamp here: s/10505320/1/White-Noise-Carnage-Revamp _

_Thank you!_


	2. Carnage

_A/N: BEFORE YOU READ! This story is BAD! Very bad! Old and bad and out-of-character and angsty and poorly written, lacking any kind of logic, twisted and extremely degrading to every character you thought you loved so please please please READ AT YOUR OWN RISK._

_Thank you. ._._

* * *

The sky was dark with rolling grey clouds. They rumbled out their discontent to the world, shedding their watery loads in icy droplets on the ground below, tapping loudly on the rooftops. The world took on a grey haze, everything seemed dull and colorless.

It had been more than three months. Edward Elric, he'd been gone, missing, for that long after restoring his younger brother's ailing body. Now, the government wanted to declare him officially missing in action, hold a funeral and be done with it.

Roy Mustang cursed the proclamation, glaring daggers down at the paperwork in front of him. The funeral would be in two weeks, and there was nothing he could do. Maybe he was just in denial, but Mustang didn't think that Edward Elric was the type to simply die. No, you could tear him apart from the inside out and bet with certainty that he'd find a way to stick around. Or, he always had been like that, once, before now.

Where had he gone? What could have happened? Roy didn't know what to think as he skimmed over the meaningless paperwork. He hardly read it at all, except for the title, to make sure it wasn't any kind of update on the Elric case.

Missing for three months and nine days. Gone without a trace. No one seemed to care anymore.

"This..." Mustang grated out, struggling to control his anger, "It pisses me off, dammit!" His office was empty; there was no one to hear him. No snide comment in reply, no firey eyes or cynical expression. Not even a lazy little shit moping about his boredom on the cushioned bench perpendicular to Mustang's desk. It was too quiet.

The Flame alchemist mentally kicked himself, running his fingers through his dark hair in exasperation. He sat there for what felt like a long while until there was a knock at his door.

"Colonel?" asked the familiar voice of Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, "May I come in?"

"Yeah," Roy replied bluntly as the blonde woman stepped into his office. "just cut the formalities, already." He pushed his fingers together and glared down at his paperwork, as though willing it to complete itself.

Riza nodded and walked up to Mustang's desk. She held out a yellow folder. "I thought you might want to see this."

"Hmmm?" Roy found himself quickly curious. He took the folder from her and gingerly opened it. Photographs, pictures of bodies. Torn and bloodied and broken bodies, with pale tarps draped over their naked bodies stained with blood. Roy could still see everything above the shoulders on most pictures, sometimes the chest area, too. A throat torn out, a skull smashed in. Tooth marks disfiguring the faces and flesh of the poor people these bodies used to be.

"There have been developments in the chimera attack case, investigations asked me to show these to you and ask for your opinion."

"Oh." This seemed a bit abrupt, not to mention blunt. "This is what's left from the chimera attacks? Some of these people aren't even identifiable!"

"That's not really as much of a problem as the potential motives behind this attack. You know about the gang that's gained power here in Central? We have reason to believe that... you-know-who is alive and running from them."

Roy arched an eyebrow in surprise, leaning into the Lieutenant's words, "Ed?!" He quickly calmed himself and started again. "You mean that shooter-gang? What makes you think that?"

Riza took the folder back from Mustang. "I can't say for sure, but knowing Ed, he must have some reason to lay low like this. Didn't you also notice," she said, choosing her words carefully, "that the supposed chimera attacks started... well, not a short time, but not long by any means, after Ed disappeared?"

"Are you saying he's responsible?!" Mustang nearly screamed before sucking in a breath, "No. The people that died in those attacks had their throats ripped out, and autopsies showed clearly that it had been done with teeth, like an actual animal. Ed wouldn't kill people, especially not like that."

Hawkeye shrunk back just a little at the miniature rant. "That's not what I'm saying at all," she retorted calmly, deciding that Mustang needed to take a vacation. "I think he might know something about the attacks that makes him a target. It seems to me that the chimera attacks are related to the gang's assaults."

"Oh. Really?" Roy felt a lump rising in his throat but quickly swallowed it. "I want to see more pictures, if you have them, so I can get a sense of what he's up to."

Riza shook her head. "This is all we've come up with so far over at investigations that's related to Ed. However, if you're interested in the chimera attacks, I can show you the bodies."

Roy sighed. "You should stop helping out at investigations. It's getting disturbing, how casual you can talk about dead people's bodies."

"Squeamish, are we? And with your histor-"

"No." Roy sighed again, more deeply this time, and got up. "It's just, they were just people on the streets before they died, people who had friends and family and people to come home to."

Hawkeye understood the implication. "Don't get too sentimental now, it's not like you." She paused as Mustang walked over to the door. "We'll find Ed as soon as we can, okay?"

Mustang muttered something to himself and walked silently with Riza to the autopsy lab. Hawkeye spoke with a man in a white coat, (likely the one who examined the bodies) a conversation which Roy blocked out. The lab coat man gestured for Mustang and Hawkeye to come with him. He disappeared behind a curtain for a moment before inviting the two to come behind it after him.

"Here," said the whitecoat, "this is the most recent victim of these murders."

Mustang stared at the body of a girl, no older than nineteen or twenty. Her throat was gone, vicious tooth marks bordering the massive hunk of missing flesh. Her right arm was lacking much flesh around where it connected with the shoulder, and was missing enough muscle nearer to her wrist for Roy to be able to see the pale bones beneath. Her face and what was visible of her arms were covered in long, deep claw marks, slightly swollen and excreting clear liquid with rotten infection. Whatever animal did this had to have been carrying something, a sickness.

"This is awful." Roy thought aloud. "Just horrifying."

The whitecoat nodded. "She was so young, too." His expression turned briefly to one of confusion, "But what's strange," he said, "is that she was attacked during the day. According to witness reports, - they all saw the same thing - the poor thing turned a corner, they heard a scream, and she was dead. Terrifying, the creature was gone before anyone could do anything."

Mustang nodded and stared at the pale body for some time before he finally asked. "What was her name?"

"Sara," said the whitecoat with some hesitation. "Sara Nyuhoru."

"I see." Mustang replied blankly. He felt sick and didn't know why. He'd been overly sensitive lately, it was probably the stress wearing on him. "Sorry. I'm just..."

The other man nodded sympathetically. "I understand. It's hard to look at, and it breaks my heart to do the job I do." Roy nodded again and slipped back out from behind the curtain, shuddering ever so slightly. The whitecoat man followed, "It may not be easy to answer, but what kind of chimera do you think did this? If we know what kind of animal it is, we may be able to track it better."

"I'm not sure," Roy began carefully, "but whatever it is, it has claws." He paused thoughtfully. "I think we'd need to get more information to know what this animal is, based on that theory. However, generally speaking, it's probably some kind of ground predator, like a dog or wolf, judging by the way Sara died."

The lab coat man cringed at Roy's bluntness. "I see. Thank you for your time, Colonel, I know you must be a very busy man."

Mustang nodded, sadness flickering in his onyx eyes. "I'm just doing my job." He stopped in the doorway, seeming to think over his words. "Let me know about any new developments in the case. I want this monster put down."

Winry sighed. She sat outside of her home on the edge of the porch, swinging and bouncing her legs restlessly. She'd always felt restless ever since Ed had been reported missing, disappeared, still half-expecting him to show up with his broken automail for repairs. He never did.

Alphonse had grown quiet, too. He liked to sit by the river, where he'd always gone after he and Edward had fought. Winry sometimes joined him. Sometimes they talked, but more often than not, their interaction was in the form of only silent glances and bobs of their heads.

The whole of Resembool laid, expectant and quieter than ever. It seemed like everyone else was waiting, too. Waiting or the grim news that Edward was dead. Everyone seemed to think it was so, anyway.

Winry decided that taking walk might help her forget, so she got up and called to Den, "Here boy!"

The black-and-white dog hopped up from his spot in the sun, claws - both automail and keratin - clicking loudly on the hard porch. He let out a small "ruff" and bounded in playful circles around Winry. The automail mechanic smiled a little and started walking, Den close at her heels. He nipped playfully at her and barked some more, oblivious to the situations outside of his own world.

Winry rubbed her fingers into the top of the dog's head, bringing them behind his ear as he pushed his muzzle up into her hand. She walked down the path and past some homes, down into the more densely populated part of town. She walked up and down the streets just for the sake of walking them and turned around, back towards her home. She turned gradually left off the path and walked for some time along the stream and in the direction of the forest that surrounded the town. She walked into it, finding a large, smooth rock to sit on where the stream trickled by with its gurgling song. It was peaceful.

The sun was growing low in the sky so Winry finally decided to leave her serene place on the rock and head home. She wondered if Granny Pinako would make stew for supper that night - it had always been Ed's favorite, she noted with nostalgia.

Dinner was silent - Granny actually did make stew, as though she could read the longing in her granddaughter's eyes. Winry didn't feel like talking, and Pinako was willing to accept that. Winry sighed once and then again before getting up. She took both bowls when they were finished and washed them off. She helped Pinako to finish cleaning the kitchen and put the leftovers away before bidding a quiet good night and heading up to bed.

Winry fell asleep quickly. She didn't want to have to think about how much she missed Ed, not any longer. He was gone and she knew it, just gone.

It wasn't until the next morning that Winry realized Alphonse hadn't shown up for supper and she hadn't seen him since the early afternoon. Maybe he was gone too. Maybe he was gone in the same way.

Roy Mustang hadn't slept well that night. His dreams were full of running, indescribable monsters and ever so much blood. He decided the chimera attacks were wearing on his rest, judging by the dreams, how restless and nervous he'd felt all night. The newspaper's title was what drew Roy's attention as he stared tiredly into his coffee.

"Chimera Spotted Near Central HQ!" The paper stated boldly, accompanied by a photograph of a dumpster behind a home, the edge ridden with deep claw marks through the metal. This made it seem to Roy that this was either exaggeration or fraud, but he couldn't help but be interested.

"The creature was spotted behind the Hakiuke household, 67 Lawrence St., according to eyewitness reports. A resident of the home claims to have heard unusual noises coming from outside, and spotted the so-called chimera when he went to check for its source..."

Roy kept reading down the article. It went on to describe an allegedly reptillian creature the size of a big cat, like a lion or jaguar, with a long tail, three eyes and *6-inch claws. It supposedly was covered in spines like a porcupine, and had a long muzzle like a bear. Mustang wasn't surprised, judging by what he'd seen of chimera, but it made him wonder who on Earth would think it was a good idea to breathe life to such a monstrosity.

He dressed and groomed himself and left his apartment, locking the door and walking towards Central Headquarters where he worked. He settled himself at his desk once he reached his office and proceeded to work on the accumulated paperwork. It seemed to be piling ever-higher and Roy was growing tired of the crammed and cluttered surface of his desk.

"Read the paper?" Hawkeye asked, not bothering with asking permission to enter

Mustang nodded, not making eye contact. "The chimera sighting? Yeah." He paused a moment, chewing on the end of his pen as he signed a document. "Do you think it's real?"

Hawkeye nodded dutifully, "Probably, I mean, with the attacks and all, there's no doubt that more than one of these creatures're running loose in the city." She held out another envelope, like the one from the day before. "Apparently we have more pictures, but this time, they're of a supposed chimera."

Roy shoved his paperwork aside and took the envelope with interest, still chewing his pen. The photos were blurry and looked like the fruits of a crappy security camera, but showed the relatively clear outline of a creature crouched over a dumpster, evidently scrounging for food. It was probably about man-sized, with a long, furry tail, long ears that were high up on its head and clawed digits. Its face was slightly elongated, but not enough to be considered a real muzzle, and its posture was clearly hunched as though in pain. The proportions and anatomy were twisted and unnatural in enough ways- not quite upright but also not on all fours - to make it clear; this chimera was clearly some kind of human-animal fusion, but there was clearly something wild about it, to the point where it clearly no longer retained anything human despite appearing to be wearing some kind of coat or cloak among other articles of casual human clothing. It made Mustang shudder.

"Where was this one spotted?" he asked, continuing to chew on the writing implement.

"Behind this building, actually," said Riza, making Roy nearly choke on mentioned pen. "I don't know about you, but I feel bad for the poor thing, being smashed so carelessly together from spare parts."

Mustang nodded. "It looks like it might've been human at some point, too." Hawkeye didn't reply and Mustang didn't blame her for not doing so. "Anyway," he said, trying halfheartedly to change the subject, "are there any other developments I should know about, updates on the case?"

"Well," said Hawkeye with a slight nod, "the higher-ups at investigations want to see if we can catch the creature. Apparently they're going to try to scent it down with dogs."

Mustang was quiet for a moment. "Do you think we could save i- him or her?"

Hawkeye's usually hard brown eyes softened. "You mean, if it was human? You want to know if we could restore them?"

The Colonel felt his cheeks turn suddenly hot and ruddy with embarassment. "I know it's childish-" he began, but was quickly cut off.

"No," said Hawkeye with certainty, "if this chimera was ever a human being, it's already clear from the security footage that it's too fargone both mentally and physically to ever be returned to the way it was."

"Oh." Roy found himself feeling strangely disappointed. "Well... are there any other jobs you need help with over at investigations?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "I don't know," she said awkwardly, "but your help would probably be appreciated in tracking and capturing the chimera, by my best guess."

Mustang nodded slowly. "I see." he smiled weakly and got up, "If it gets me away from the paperwork, I'll be glad to help."

Hawkeye nodded. "I'm supposed to be meeting with the team assigned to catch this chimera outside." Her eyes narrowed slightly in disapproval, "Though I think I should mention that your papers will be overdue if you don't finish them soon."

Roy waved her off. "I'll rest easier and be more productive once I'm sure we've gotten the chimera. I promise I'll do them after this job."

"Whatever you say," Riza replied with a slight smile. "I just hope you stay true to your word, Colonel."

Pain, endless, burning agony through every part of his body and mind. Stinging, ripping and stabbing through absolutely everything. His vision flickered, little more than a fading tunnel out in front of him, the crumbling plaster on the ceiling just barely visible through the haze of both blinding light and suffocating darkness.

His entire body continued to pulse with agony in time with his failing heartbeat, lying helplessly splayed on his back. His vision blurred and faltered again. The glow around him, he realized, was from an alchemic reaction, but why? Where? Why weren't they there to save him, either?

The thoughts were short-lived. The burning pain slowly numbed as vision finally left him, leaving nothing but blackness stretching endlessly ahead. Each breath was shallow and labored, and the air he took in wasn't enough as his failing lungs overcompensated. The pain was but a numb pinprick as his heart stopped and he was dead; the slightest moment of euphoria quickly ended.

The next days passed in a clouded blur for Mustang. He realized more and more just how sorely he missed Ed's snide remarks and defiant attitude.

So far, the investigations had made little progress; a chimera had been caught, but it died shortly after having been contained. Another victim of the attacks had been found later that same night; it had to be confirmed now, there was more than one chimera wandering the streets of Central.

Alleged members of a gang were targeting women in addition to the already-critical chimera situation; one more death, several others severely injured and traumatized. The whole of Central was on edge and falling apart, it seemed.

The phone call was too much.

"Colonel Mustang?" came the voice of Sergeant Major Kain Fuery over the telephone as Roy picked up. His voice was thick with obvious emotion and trembled pathetically.

"Yeah?" Roy replied, slight fear edging into his own voice. "What is it?"

There was a long, staticky pause. "There's something you need to see..." Another pause, even longer this time. There was a choked noise over the line, "Come," the Sergeant Major paused to sniffle sadly, "c-ome to the alley next to the fourth apartment building on Delano, first right after Rice Avenue. The team and I are already there."

The pit of Mustang's stomach dropped painfully, panic nibbling at his insides. He hung up the phone, walking as quickly as he could out the door. The route was short and Mustang found himself turning down the mentioned street, fear building up in his gut more quickly than he'd expected. There was a clump of people around the edge of the alley. The rest of the street was disturbingly empty.

He pushed through the group of soldiers, investigators and press. His stomach dropped again, horror and terrible, consuming grief bursting through him. Automail, blood and a familiar red coat. In fact, the cracked, uneven pavement of the ground was caked with sticky, wet red, stray bolts and washers and other mechanical paraphernalia littered amongst it. Roy could recognize the remains of an automail port and what might've been the remains of a hand.

What was next was just as horrifying. On the wall of the apartment building on the left of the alley, a sickening message was scrawled messily in blood.

HELL WILL BE PERFECT FOR HIM.

Roy found the Sergeant Major. His glasses had slid down his nose but he didn't seem to care, staring in parylized horror at the remains before him. Mustang patted the other man gently on the back. Poor Fuery, he'd never been much of a field worker, in fact, he'd usually preferred the inside paperwork and technical assistance that Mustang so despised. It made sense that he was so bothered, not just by the grief of loosing the sixteen-year-old prodigy but by the sight of the gore before him.

Carnage was the word to describe it, Roy decided.

The funeral was held only three days later. Even complete strangers came to mourn for the Fullmetal alchemist; the hero of the people. Alphonse, Winry, Pinako, Izumi, even Rose and Russell and Fletcher all the way from Liore and Xenotime. Major Armstrong, every member of Mustang's unit, Sheska, and countless others, some, indeed, complete strangers, showed to pay their respects, garbed in black.

Each spoke fondly of Edward Elric's time in life, but to Mustang, the words were empty. They were worth nothing to the person that boy had been, he decided. Empty words, empty coffin, empty, meaningless promotion, empty, meaningless summary of what had been and could be and what the future would bring. It was all empty.

"COLONEL EDWARD ELRIC 1899-1915"

Mustang sat by the newly laid grave for hours after the last of the mourners had left, Hawkeye by his side, waiting patiently, letting her own sadness loose as she softly comforted the Colonel. Alphonse and Winry sat together too. They sat and stared at the headstone late into the night, long into the morning. They got on the train back to Resembool without saying goodbye.

It was impossible to blame them. They had seemed to be in utter shock throughout the funeral, even as they spoke of good times, vices and virtues that had made Edward special to them. Both of them; they were broken.

That boy, she thought, he was a kid! He was younger than me!

The limp body of the failed experiment was dragged unceremoniously away and tossed into the prison-like cell next to her own. Felice shuddered, curling into a ball in the corner of her cell. Her cage. Her eyes wandered to the boy's wrecked body. Thick blood oozed from his mouth, along with half-disintegrated chunks of flesh; he'd literally coughed up his own insides, his punctured stomach spilling hungry acid that slowly began to devour him alive.

There was a moan from the cell on the other side. Her eyes widened; she'd been sure that experiment had died a fair time ago. She felt sick to see it, even sicker for the sake of the poor girl trapped in a cage with the thing that may have once been human, that may have once been a boy. The thing's clouded eyes drifted over to her, feral and hungry and scarily intelligent. Its body looked mostly human, actually, though desprately skinny and broken and chained to the cold stone wall. Its mouth opened slightly, burbling blood spilling from between its pointed teeth, dribbling messily down its chin and staining its dark clothing a dulled crimson.

"It hurts..." the thing whimpered, warped voice sending chills down Felice's spine. "It hurts..."

"I'm sorry," she whispered in return, hesitantly putting her arm through the bars of the cage to put a gentle hand on the thing's bare arm. "there's nothing I can do." Its skin was so horribly pale, almost transluscent, and so deathly cold.

The thing lifted its head slightly, a slight smile parting its mouth. "You'll get away."

Felice stared in mild shock. "What?"

"I'll..." A fierce determination was burning in those feral, violet eyes. "I'll save... you. I'll help you... get away..." The thing paused to cough, blood welling in its mouth. "You'll get away... I... promise... you won't be like me..."

"No," the girl whimpered, taking her hand away as the thing struggled weakly against its bonds. "you'll hurt yourself, you shouldn't move!"

"Shhh," the thing hissed, "they'll hear us." It bared its fanged teeth in a silent grimace, blood spilling from his mouth. It made a slight sizzling noise as it splashed down to the ground. Something then seemed to catch the monster's eye and it cocked its head in curiosity. "B-bingo," it managed to choke weakly, turning back to Felice.

"Bingo?" she echoed in confusion, "What're you talking about?"

The thing grinned, making another chill rack her body. "I have a plan." Without waiting for Felice's response, it swung its head towards the other girl in the cell, who had been watching with horrified interest, at both the thing's interaction with Felice as well as its grotesque appearance. "Hey you," the thing snarled, grinning devilishly, "wanna do a cell-mate... a quick favor?"

"Umm..." the girl shrunk away, curling into an even tighter ball.

"Oh." The thing frowned. It pointed down at itself with its right hand, bound in manacles above its head. "I guess I should... introduce myself... You can call me..." the thing paused again. "Oh..."

Felice edged nervously closer. "What is it?"

The thing shrugged as best it could, "Can't quite remember... my name... funny, isn't it?"

Felice failed to see the humor. "Want me to make up a name till you remember yours?"

"Hmmm..." The thing's frown deepened. "Sure. Go crazy."

The girl in the cell with the thing spoke up. "Do you know why they've chained you up and let us sit around free?"

"Monster."

Both girls leaned in closer to the thing as it began to tremble. "What was that?" Felice asked, concern laced in her voice.

"It's because... I'm a monster. My name is... Monster from now on." The thing's long mane of matted, dirty hair draped down, casting shadows over its shame-darkened eyes.

"I-I'm Felice," said girl stuttered, understanding that the creature wouldn't change its mind. "It's nice to meet you offically, M-monster."

The dark-haired girl in the corner edged slowly closer. "My name is Kamina." She paused, running her fingers delicately over Monster's pale skin. "You're cold," she commented as the thing's lean muscles tensed. She thought she saw its cheeks redden beneath its bangs.

"Yeah," the thing's voice suddenly seemed more human, less warped, less cold. "we done... with introductions... yet?"

"Yes! Of course," Felice cut in awkwardly. Was that girl trying to get friendly with him now? Of all times, now?

"I have one more question for you, Monster." said Kamina, edging closer so she wouldn't have to reach to touch it. Really?

"Eh?" the creature shifted nervously away, cocking its head. "Shoot."

Kamina actually blushed. "Are you a boy or a girl? I can't tell."

She really asked that question, now?

"I-I'm a guy!" Monster exclaimed, growing quite animated. "Could you not tell?!" He seemed a bit hurt, "I mean... this whole thing's messed me up, but I didn't think it was that bad!" He trailed off, muttering something unintelligible that likely referenced the bluntness and less-than-appropriate timing of the question.

Kamina's blush visibly deepened in the dim light. She brushed a lock of her long, dark hair back behind her ear. "It's just, it's dark in here, so I can't see your face... Your hair is long and you look kinda small for a guy, 'cos you're so skinny, so I thought you might be a girl. Then again, you look pretty muscular, too, and your voice is masculine and stuff, so you might be a guy."

"I am liking you less and less." The thing- or more so, the boy cringed, seeming even more angry and stung and spitting blood.

Kamina shrugged. Her nonchalence was getting on Monster's nerves. He wondered how much effort it would take to rip- No. He shouldn't've thought like that, lest he forget. "What was it you wanted me to do?"

"I think there's probably some kind of rung or shelf or something where they keep the key. You might be able to bump it or something and get it where ya can reach it."

"So we can unchain you?"

An inhuman growl was Monster's only response. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with distrust as another wave of pain racked his body, more blood erupting from his mouth. He sniffled weakly, his clogged nose making it hard to breathe. He wished he could smell; his modified body did have its perks, he had to admit.

Kamina shuffled to the edge of the cell, stretching her arm outside the bars to where a small metal ring of keys was looped through a clip on a metal hook in the wall, fairly high up. Kamina could reach it if she stood up and stretched. Her fingers hovered over it for a moment, as though hesitant to touch it as she rubbed uncomfortably against the metal bars of the cell, but lit down and wrapped gently and delicately around the keys.

They clattered softly as she quickly wrenched them through the bars, afraid of being seen. Monster grinned his feral grin. "Exactly. Now unlock me."

The girl didn't seem to like this idea. "Why? So you can rip me up and eat me or something?"

Monster laughed despite himself. "We're all in cages today, the only way we'll get out is by workin' together, sweetheart. I couldn't afford to do somethin' like that to you even if I wanted to."

"Fine." Kamina edged closer and roughly grabbed Monster's chained wrist, jamming the chosen key into the manacle and twisting it. She tried a few others until she heard a click. The bond fell away as she repeated the process on the other wrist.

The creature slowly moved from his cross-legged position on the floor, stiffly making his way to his feet. He rubbed his wrists and cracked his knuckles, clasping his hands behind his head and audibly popping his back. He grinned and put his hands on his hips. "Much better, thanks. I'm free and you've improved your attitude. A win for all of us, isn't it?"

Felice seemed visibly relieved. Kamina did naught but nod curtly, and Monster couldn't blame her. He almost felt bad. "What's your plan?" asked Felice eagerly.

"Simple;" Monster said, grin widening, "good old-fashioned crawlin' through the air vents. Since we've conviently already gotten those keys, gettin' outta this dump should be easy."

Felice nodded. "Thank you," she felt the need to add with a slight smile, "for helping us escape."

Those hard eyes softened briefly before turning cold again. "This is for me, not you. Better remember that if you want to stay in one piece. Everyone's out for 'emselves these days and I doubt many people'll slow down for stragglers like us."

"Right. Of course." Felice nearly felt disappointed. She was hoping Monster would be a little friendlier after having been freed.

"But just 'cos I'm doin' this for me doesn't mean I don't care about you guys, too." He crouched down near the bars to Felice's cell, wiping a new rush of blood from his mouth with his arm, staining his pale skin crimson. "Like I said, we're in this together whether we like it or not."

Something crooked spread across his face, almost a smile. Felice smiled back. They would be free. Monster was strong and determined; he would make sure of it.

Alphonse glared balefully at the wall in front of him, curling into the fetal position on his bed. He fought back tears, the mere thought of his brother was enough to make him bawl like an infant. Ed wouldn't've been so flaccid and petty, he would have been strong for those he loved and left his own feelings behind to comfort them. Then there was Al, too pitiful to do anything but weep alone in his room.

It really was pathetic. He whimpered into his pillow, drawing the blankets tighter up around himself. Everyone said that it would be okay, that everything would be normal again someday. They were wrong. Nothing would ever be okay again. Never.

Alphonse wished he had something to give, anything and everything that would bring his brother back. He was almost tempted to take his own life, only stilled by thinking of how openly Ed would disapprove. Would he think his brother was weak?

He was, wasn't he?

Al forced himself into a sitting-up position on the bed, trembling. He needed to stop wallowing in his self-pity and do what Ed did best, do what Ed had always said to do.

"You've got a good pair of legs. You should get up and use 'em."

That's what he'd always said. Al could almost hear the voice in the back of his head, almost see the golden-haired teen out of the corner of his eye, mocking and cruel, teasing him for his weakness. That wasn't like Ed, something he would never do. No, he would be disappointed. Terribly, painfully disappointed in his younger brother. He would be sad.

Al felt like crying all over again at the mere thought, blinking his tears away. Winry was probably just as upset as he was, if not worse. Despite the days that passed, the grief hadn't yet faded and showed no signs of waning.

The door seemed very far away to Alphonse, but he was determined to prove that he could move on, just like his brother had said. He would wipe away that forceless wreck that he'd become and start over. He'd be strong for his brother. He'd be strong for Winry and Granny Pinako. He'd be strong for the Lieutenant and the Colonel. He'd be strong for everyone. It was a promise.

He got up and walked from his room, immediately heading for Winry. He knocked softly at her door, suddenly feeling his brief confidence collapse to an irresolute puddle in his heart. Sure, he'd be strong, just as sure as the dead could come back to life. He almost turned around and headed back to his room, but the nagging voice in his head stilled him.

Confident or not in his own abilities, it was still a promise. A promise Alphonse intended to keep.

Winry opened the door. Her eyes seemed tired and sad, her hair was tangled and greasy. She seemed to have given up on the concept of personal hygiene. He was selfish, Alphonse realized, selfish to pity himself and his weakness when Winry could hardly find the energy to maintain her own body, let alone support and comfort him.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Al mumbled awkwardly, "and I've been doing some thinking..."

Winry nodded, inviting him into her cluttered room and sitting on the bed. "I'm okay. What were you thinking about?"

Al stepped in and sat next to her. "Brother." His eyes turned serious and he took Winry's hand in his own. "I was thinking about what he'd want. What he'd like to see from us."

"Al..." There was an edge in her voice.

"He would've wanted us to be strong for him! We can do it... he wouldn't be sitting here, feeling sorry for himself the way we are!" He stared at Winry with pleading eyes. "So, we should respect Ed and move on. We should cherish what we had and use those happy memories to build a future."

Winry suddenly became uncharacteristically angry. "So you want to just forget it ever happened? You want to forget that he's gone and just 'move on?!'" She jabbed a finger at Alphonse's chest. "That's the body he gave you! And you just want to pretend! You're too afraid to face reality, Alphonse! You're a goddamn coward!"

Alphonse felt tears prick sharply at his eyes. He whimpered and removed himself from the bed, rushing as quickly as he could from Winry's room and into his own, too upset to even slam the door behind him. She was right. He was a weak, enervated child. The world was too much. He gave up as he cried softly into his pillow.

The afternoon sun was too bright, streaming through the window. It should have been raining. It should've been as dark as Alphonse was feeling.

Monster wasn't his name. Felice had decided and that was final; whoever this boy really was, he deserved better, much better. He acted arrogant and self-centered, cruel and angry, but Felice could see through it. He was playing villian to protect them rather than hurt them. He meant none of what he said, each word riddled with deception, masking his true feelings. She couldn't help but envy how easy it was for him to lie to Kamina and her.

A moment of fiddling with keys in the lock on their cell door left Monster and Kamina rather easily freed. Felice could see the glee in his cold eyes as he unlocked her cell's door as well, even as he spat blood and shuddered with pain.

"Why does that happen to you?" she couldn't help but ask as she got to her feet. She wondered if she should have.

Monster wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'm an incomplete experiment," he said simply, "but I doubt it'll kill me or anything."

"Right." Felice didn't completely believe that last comment. There was a long pause as Monster sniffed intently at the air, lip curling to bare his fanged teeth. He seemed to know what he was doing. "What's your real name, honestly?"

The creature put his hands on his hips, striking an almost alluring pose. It was even funnier that he didn't seem to realize it. "I told you," he spat, suddenly contemptuous, "I don't remem-"

Felice jabbed her finger in his face. "You're lying."

A beastly snarl was enough of a warning as Felice drew quickly away. "It doesn't matter! I was weak when I was human, and I've become something better and stronger! I'm someone new!"

He was playing villian to protect them, right? "There's no way in hell I'll call another person 'Monster' when he doesn't deserve it."

"I can show you!" Monster pushed Felice back up against the wall as Kamina shrunk away in fear, cynicism abandoned and replaced by horror. Felice whimpered and shuddered as Monster's slimy tongue brushed along her neck. He ran his hands down her back, tracing her the curve of her hips with his fingertips. He reached up again as Felice tried to punch him, fingernails digging deep enough into her arm to draw blood.

What was he doing? Was he trying to sexually assault her? If he was, he was cutting it pretty close. He was just playing villian, right? He was trying to make her hate him... right?

An inhuman rattle rumbled in Monster's throat. He bit down on her neck and ear and cheek, tongue massaging her skin as long, viscid ropes of saliva dripped from and between his jaws. Felice moaned and whimpered, trying to fight but failing miserably. Monster grabbed her by the scruff and tossed her roughly to the ground. His booted foot connect with her ribs with an audible crack. Felice screamed as he kicked her two more times for good measure.

"What was that about not deservin' my title?" Monster hissed, voice suddenly warped and cold and inhuman again.

Felice whimpered and clutched her side. "You stirred up a lot of noise," she grunted through clenched teeth. "whoever's guarding this place will come to see what it was all about. We better run while we have the chance."

Monster laughed, mocking and cruel. "Oh no, that simply won't do. I need to have my fun with them, too, after all. I'm sure you'd love to sit and watch them pay!" His crimson tongue flicked hungrily in and out from between his lips. "I wonder, how good will they taste, eh?"

"Please stop," Felice murmured weakly, "I understand what you're trying to tell me so you can cut this ridiculous act! You're a monster, okay?! That's your name!"

The creature's gaze didn't soften. No apology came. He didn't help her up. "Get the fuck away from me."

Kamina pushed past Monster and pulled Felice gingerly to her feet. She supported the other girl and helped her limp as quickly as they could away from him. He was completely berserk and he wasn't just playing the part; he was the bad guy of the story, plain and simple. It didn't matter whether he was the cruel mastermind or just another brutish grunt, Monster had lived up to his title, his label; his sin.

Monster watched with expressionless eyes as the two girls disappeared into the bowls of the hellish laboratory, with, he realized, little chance of escape. His clenched fists tightened at his sides. What had he done? He wanted them to know, badly. He wanted to be human, to be as selfless and headstrong as his human persona had once been, but it simply wasn't in him. Whether he liked it or not, he was a monster, an animal.

The creature gagged and spat blood before crawling up a dishevled stack of boxes in the far corner of the open room full of cages. Most were empty save for the decaying corpses of failed experiments. He shuddered.

The grate that covered the air vent was easy to pry off. Monster let it fall to the ground with a clatter as he slid his small body into the tight metal crawlspace, moving forward, arm over arm in the dark.

It felt like it had been hours of crawling through the twisting ventilation system until another grate came into view, the bright light filtering through it stinging Monster's light-sensitive eyes. He wrinkled his nose as he smelled antiseptic and latex through the slitted metal grate. There were some people in there, wearing sterilized clothing and gloves. Some kind of fish-looking chimera was stretched on an operating table, abdomen peeled away for the researchers to poke and prod at its insides.

Monster shuddered, the pit of his stomach dropping painfully. He wondered what these people would do to him if they were ever able to restrain him long enough to administer sedatives. They'd probably inject him with different drugs to see how he'd react, take blood and tissue samples, and open him up just like the chimera on the table to dissect and examine his scrambled insides. Oh, no doubt some twisted geneticist would have the time of their life sticking needles into his brain.

He subdued a small noise of horror and shut down the speculations. He saw a door on the far side of the sterile, white room. Actually, the bold red "EXIT" sign gave it away nicely; all Monster had to do was make it out of the building alive. Piece of cake. The nice, gooey chocolate kind that's laced with arsenic and other potentially deadly chemicals.

Monster sucked in a deep breath. He would make a run for it. He squirmed towards the grate as quickly as he could, shoving it from where it was screwed into the wall with inhuman strength. The creature dropped the *8-foot distance to the floor without fear, landing with feline grace and bounding over the heads of the shocked researchers.

One man stood bravely in his way, fists raised as though in preparation to fight. Monster audibly laughed and grabbed the man's arm, hooking a leg around the man's legs and flipping him with ease, balancing his forward momentum briefly on all fours before bouncing upright again and scrambling for the exit.

He shoved the door open with a bellow of triumph, skidding out into the empty street. He grinned at the grey sky above him as icy droplets of precipitation washed the blood and dirt from his skin and hair. He was free; it almost seemed too easy, too simple. It was too good to be true.

The guilt didn't set in until later, and Monster suddenly hated himself. He hated who he'd become, what he'd done. He hated his name and his past and what hellish future he may have ahead of him. The pure, consuming hate almost felt good.

He realized just how cold and exausted and hungry he was. It had been months since he'd seen the outside world. He'd missed it. He couldn't seek permitted shelter in the home of a friendly and generous bystander, nor could he risk sneaking in. The best Monster could do was foresake his humanity and abandon himself in the dark as the cold rain pelted down on his thin hide.

It was peaceful, even as he felt like he was freezing to death in his little corner of the alley. He'd never been so hungry in his life, almost tempted to sink his teeth into his own flesh. That wasn't normal. Those feelings didn't matter as Monster caught raindrops on his crimson tongue extended, revelling in the sensation of the painfully freezing droplets running into his dry mouth. He shivered.

The feelings would've felt so much better if they'd been there. He and she and she again. They could catch raindrops together, just as Monster did now. They could forget and there could be bliss. Monster felt his consciousness slip away, exausted.

He woke to yet more cold, still curled up in a ball beside the same dumpster, the moon had now flown high in the sky, cold and unforgiving. Its pale light was almost painful to Monster's adjusting eyes. The rain had stopped.

Monster staggered to his feet and limped from the alley, ignoring his empty stomach's blatant complaints. Food would be his top priority, as soon as he got as far as he could from that lab and that street.

The street had been empty when he'd first emerged from the disheveled and shocked laboratory, and no one had started a hunt for him, but it would only be a matter of time before the government arranged military parties on his heels.

Did Monster ever mention that he hated his name?

Something noble, like John or Phillip, he thought would suit him better. He remembered and knew what it was. He remembered and knew everything from Before. He knew everything he should have been feeling and he knew what he really was. And he hated it all.

Roy's spirits were lifted some as Hawkeye brought him the newest report. Two girls, claiming to have escaped from some hidden warehouse lab. He made his way straight to the hospital where both girls were checked in, showed his identification and recieved the room numbers from the front desk and went to see them.

According to the report, both were suffering from severe dehydration and malnutrition, and the older was otherwise relatively healthy. However, one girl, apparently the younger of the two, suffered from several broken ribs and severe bruising among other injuries. She was no doubt phsycologically damaged by the apparent abuse.

Mustang pulled up a chair by the healthier girl's bed in the hospital. "Hi there," he said softly as she sat up. "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang. Would you mind if I asked you some questions...?"

"I'm Kamina," the girl supplied shyly, hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Well, Kamina," said Mustang thoughtfully, panning over his next words carefully as he pulled a small notepad and pen from his pocket. "can you, briefly, explain to me everything that's happened?"

The girl nodded. "I don't know exactly how long its been since it first happened, but I was walking home... and someone grabbed me. They came from behind so I couldn't see them, but they put a cloth with chemicals on it over my mouth and I passed out. They put me in a cage with something else... and..." she paused nervously, fiddling with a lock of her hair.

"If you feel like you're uncomfortable talking about it, that's okay. I'm sure there are things you don't want to remember."

"Oh no, sir, not at all!- I'm just not sure how to explain it... but... the thing in the cage wasn't human. From what I understand, he used to be, though..."

Mustang nodded thoughtfully, clasping his hands under his chin and putting his elbows on his knees, leaning over. "Can you provide details as to this things appearance? Was it a chimera, do you think?"

"Probably." Kamina said with certainty, "He looked mostly human, but he was really small and skinny for how old he seemed to be, and he still had a lot of muscle, too. He had long hair. It was really tangled up and dirty and it was dark in the cell where we were kept, so I'm not a hundred percent sure on what color it was. He had pointed teeth, like a shark or something, and he kept coughing up blood."

Mustang's eyes widened slightly. "What kind of clothes was he wearing? Any distinguishing marks?"

Kamina shifted in bed. "Like I said, it was pretty hard to see, but his clothes were dark, maybe black, and pretty-tight fitting from what I could see. His arms were bare and he had long pants and boots." She paused thoughtfully. "He called himself "Monster," and his eyes were actually purple, I've never seen anyone with eyes that color before."

Realization hit Roy like a hammer blow as he jotted these things down on his notepad. "Did he have any tattooes or anything like that that you could see?"

"No... I doubt it would matter, though." Kamina seemed to become a little bitter. "He just ran off in the end and he's probably already dead."

"And what about the other girl?"

"Felice? She's why he got so angry and ran away." Kamina's eyes were wide and fearful. "She kept asking for his real name, because she refused to call another person "Monster," because she didn't think he deserved it..."

"Can you go on?" Mustang felt like he was going to explode.

Kamina nodded, shuddering. "He went completely insane after she said that. He... he licked her and touched her and bit her, like an animal! He kicked her after that, and he's strong enough, he's not human... I was really scared... then he told us to get away from him and we got away as quickly as we could, just like he said. There was a good spot for us, we were lucky. I broke a window and helped Felice out and we went straight to the military police for help. You know the rest."

"The lengths people go to prove a point in this world never cease to disgust me."

A wordless nod was all he got in reply.

"Well, Kamina, thank you. I think I've gotten a new lead. The military police is on the way to seizing that warehouse as we speak, how about that?" Mustang smiled slightly. "This illegal lab is probably the one behind the recent chimera attacks, too, so we're killing two birds with one stone." He got up and saluted to Kamina. "I hope you and Felice do well in your recovery."

The girl dipped her head respectfully as Mustang closed the door behind him. She hoped Monster was shot dead by the military police by now.

This area of Central was one reffered to by many as "Shit Row," and Monster decided that the title was one to keep in mind as he stalked back and forth down dirty, dead-end alleyways and back streets. At first, when he'd first emerged from the warehouse lab, he'd seemed to be in a decent area of the city, but a turn down the corner showed him otherwise.

He snarled in frustrated rage, slamming his fist into a wall only to pull away in disgust, hurriedly wiping the slimy film of dirt and grime from his hand onto his thigh. He shuddered, trudging restlessly in almost predatory circles in the open, empty street. All he wanted was to get his stomach to cease its incessant and blatant complaints; even if his meal was raw or cold, he would down it in an instant if it meant his abdomen would stop emitting low gurgles and sharp hunger pangs every few minutes.

Several months trapped in a sick human experimentation laboratory without substantial food or water would probably have killed normal people. Lucky for him, Monster wasn't normal people, and despite all the suffering that had accompanied it, he thanked the god he didn't believe in for his unusually durable modified body.

His feelings were significantly conflicted; he almost thanked the genetic alchemists who'd done this to him for his heightened senses, whatever it was they'd even actually done despite passionately hating them at the same time. Life could be comically ironic sometimes.

A noise from above, presumably on top of one of the buildings, caught Monster's attention. He involuntarily began to salivate, first instincts screaming for him to kill whatever kind of prey he found and sate his seemingly perpetual appetite.

However, cold logic overruled primal desire as Monster sunk into a defensive position, senses keen and pricked for potential threats, scanning the dim buildings around him for movement and triangulating for any noise of feet on pavement. Monster's calculating brain processed the sensory information it recieved with pinpoint accuracy and purpose.

He smirked inwardly; he'd located his potential assailant, their distinct scent sweet in his nostrils as his tongue swiped around his mouth in anticipation. Humanity was something Monster would have preffered to retain through this ordeal, but his hunger was overpowering and he wasn't above eating who or whatever he might come across.

A beastly rattle rose in his throat as the creature bared his teeth. His brief confidence quickly reverted to automated caution as he heard more rustling from the roof. There was a gunshot and Monster yelped as the ricochet threw sparks mere inches from his foot, whirling around desprately as animal panic nibbled at his insides.

There were several more gunshots, the silhouette of a person visible on the roof. Monster deftly evaded each shot, but each bullet new cut exceedingly, frighteningly close to hitting him as his concentration wore down in to pure fear.

Finally, instinct won over his conscious thought as Monster fled, nimbly navigating the alleyways and back streets he'd taken the courtesy of getting acquainted with mere minutes before. He felt mild disgust for his own feral behavior as he hurdled over a dumpster on all fours, crawling up the side of a building as quickly as he could as more gunshots rang out again.

He bounded as quickly as he could across the tiled rooftop, boots clattering loudly against the shingles upon landing as Monster made the leap between buildings. He skidded to a stop, whirling around to face his pursuer.

Correction; pursuers; three people, kids, no older than seventeen or maybe eighteen, one stranded without Monster's feline sense of balance on the other roof, the other two had their guns aimed up at Monster from the ground. If he ran across the rooftops again, he'd be shot, and even if he could make a few more jumps and get out of range of the stationary shooter on the roof, there were still the mobile ground operators to worry about. If he jumped down to the ground on either side, the nearest alleyway to duck into was far down the street and a beeline from the far end of the building wouldn't work, blocked as the route was by other buildings and dumpsters, he'd be shot by the ground team.

It was probably illegal for these people to be in possession of those weapons, Monster noted absentmindedly, still frozen in his defensive stance. He could use that, should he attempt to wage verbal war against his pursuers.

"Are those guns legal?" He sang, relaxing his stance and putting his hands on his hips. "'Cos I doubt your parents would be real happy to know you kids're out tryin' to shoot people in the middle of the night."

The person on the rooftop, whom Monster assumed was the leader of this party, didn't seem phased and simply cocked their gun at Monster's head. "I'm sure they'll take it just fine when they hear we used them to take out chimera scum like you!"

Female, judging by the voice and scent. Monster waved her off, not at all threatened by the statement. "Scum? That's a bit of a harsh word, and I'm not even a chimera!" he exclaimed with mock hurt. "How about we go back down to the ground and sit down and talk about this like decent, civilized beings?"

A bullet whipping past his head was the only reply Monster recieved for a moment before the gun-wielding girl shouted across the distance between them; "Just die, you bastard!

Monster put his hands up defensively, sidestepping another shot as genuine fear welled inside him. "C'mon now, I already told you I'm not a chimera!"

"I'm not thick enough to buy that shit! You're a monster, just like the rest of them!"

Monster snarled, realizing that the defensive approach wasn't going to work. He bounded with inhuman strength back over to the other roof, swinging his leg up and knocking the gun from the girl's hands with ease. He snatched the girl by the scruff of the neck and retrieved the gun, leaping down from the building with her bridal-style in his arms, landing lightly on his feet and dropping her roughly down to the ground.

The girl struggled fiestily against him, but Monster's booted foot rested firmly on her abdomen, restricting her movement to helpless thrashing and wriggling at his mercy as the creature pointed the hunting rifle at her head.

"Here's the deal," Monster snarled at the two other gun-toting kids. "you drop all'a your weapons and we all walk away in one piece. If you don't, you'll be dead and you're friend's next job'll be as my dinner. Capiche?"

"You don't have the nerve. You're bluffing."

Monster in turn cocked the gun, prepared to shoot. The girl squealed and struggled helplessly under his foot. "Try me."

Yeah, these kids were terrified of Monster. "You let her go or I'll shoot ya!"

"I started the whole hostage situation thing, so I don't think that's how it works, kid."

The gun was trembling in the kid's hands; he couldn't do it, he placed the gun down. The other kid did the same. Monster didn't doubt it, so he dropped his gun and picked the girl up, pushing her gently towards her friends. He smiled and turned around, worldlessly walking away.

"Hey! You come back here!"

Monster waved them off good-naturedly. "We all walk away in one piece, right?"

He had no time to react as his sharp ears caught the gun's hammer click; helpless to evade as the deafening bang sounded, echoing against the buildings and resonating in the space. His entire body went numb for a moment as the bullet passed through his upper arm, an audible crack could be heard as it made contact with and drove through bone. Monster roared in pain and bared his teeth, human intelligence slowly retreating back into animal stupidity as his fear grew from a weak simmer to a raging boil in the put of his stomach.

Another shot grazed his side as he whipped around to run, making the creature wail and stumble, clutching at his side with his one good arm while the other hung, limp and useless at his side. Monster scrambled away as quickly as he could, frequently dropping down to all fours as he lost his balance, vision faltering to but a dim, blurred tunnel stretching out ahead of him. Monster mewled pathetically and dropped roughly to his hands and knees, coughing harshly and spitting blood. He finally laid down, panting and resting face-down on the pavement as his damaged body gave out.

Even as durable as his body was, he was helpless against the surprise attack, even more shocked and disgusted with himself for being so prideful as to expect the kids would kneel down and obey his commands. That felt strange to him, somehow. Somehow, wrong.

"Gonna die," he murmured, not hearing the layered distortion of his voice as his blood leaked thickly out onto the sidewalk, forming tiny red rivers within the cracks in the pavement as gravity did it's work. "don't wanna die..."

It was only know that something clicked for Monster, a whispered name, soft and familiar as it tickled his ear with warm breath; a name that not only clicked, but entailed and represented him. In that moment, despite the pain and twisted euphoria, everything suddenly made sense as the rush of information that accompanied the name filled Monster's muddled brain.

He knew who he was. Even more importantly, he knew what he was, and he wasn't a monster any longer.

Save me.

Mustang's motivation to keep searching steadily plummeted as time went by, as yet more attacks by both chimera as well as gang members grew in severity and frequency. In the western area of town, gunshots had allegedly been heard, near where the warehouse lab was located. Stray bullets and spilt blood had been sampled and taken to the lab for analysis. It would be some days until the results were back in to Mustang.

Frustration bit sharply at him. Why were these gang members doing this? Did they have a purpose, a reason to beat and rape people, of both genders, adults as well as children, in broad daylight? Were the chimeras connected, somehow, to the gang's attacks? Had the gang been running that laboratory and had they created the now-decaying monstrosities left within?

There were so many questions and so little available to answer them, there was nothing that could be done. Roy felt strangely helpless, and he hated the feeling of helplessness, regardless of situation. He wanted to know that he was making a real difference, somewhere, somehow.

He decided that he would go to the warehouse lab the two girls had been rescued from and look around for himself; it was better than sitting around and being useless. Maybe it would take his mind off of the dismal state of things, maybe he'd discover something to help in the search for evidence.

Mustang walked out to his car and drove the fair way to the building. It seemed oddly abandoned despite all the possible evidence it could contain. Why wasn't anyone searching it? There had been little more than a quick look-around when the building was first seized, so there was certainly much more to look for.

It was suspicious, but with his ignition gloves on and ready to snap, Mustang decided to head in and look around. The lab within the abandoned warehouse was predictably generic, the long storage room lined with many cages, iron bars containing the bloodstained cells rusted and brittle with age, then a wide pair of double doors connecting it to a cleaner-looking lab area. There was an open space with traces of chalk and alchemy marks marring the floor; probably where they transmuted the chimera and other monstrosities created here.

To the right of the alchemy area, a long, silvery operating table stretched out, leather straps meant to hold down patients now unbuckled and uselessly draped over the cold metal surface. Several fair-sized desks were grouped tightly in the corner, littered with documents and photos and alchemy arrays, blueprints for twisted bioalchemic weapons; chimera.

Mustang felt his heart rise up to his throat, tensing. He walked over to the desks, rustling through the files (which were convieniently still laid in alphabetical order) and hoping there would be some, any evidence of any use whatsoever. Confirmation, a location, the name of an organization; anything.

The Flame alchemist was tempted to end it right then and there, to snap his fingers and watch the precious documents burn as his frustrated rage threatened to overtake him, but settled with sweeping his arm across the desk, sending papers scattered everywhere, rising high to drift gently and leaf-like back down to the ground with a rustle.

He felt suddenly ill as a particular file lying by his feet caught his attention. He picked it up, brain feeling like it would explode on the inside.

Experiment #43

Subject title: Major Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist

Subject age: approx. 16 years

Subject height: approx. *5' (subject too violent for accurate measurement)

Subject weight: approx *90 lbs. (subject too violent for accurate measurement)

Experiment synopsis: bioalchemic human modification (weapon)

Mustang couldn't believe it as even worse grief suddenly surged within him. He hastily folded the document and shoved it into his pocket for future reference; there was still much he hadn't yet read. He scrambled, kicking down the doors of each cage and checking the body of each experiment. No.

He felt desparation bubbling up from the pit of his stomach as he burst outside. He would search every alley, every street and dumpster and dead end, he'd do whatever it took to find Ed- he was alive, he had to be! He... he had to be... didn't he?

No, he had to be calm. Deep breaths. Deep breaths... Roy sighed once and closed his eyes, trying to push down the rising panic inside him. Ed had to be here, he had to be alive, no matter what. He had to be.

He'd check the alleys, each one in turn. Then the nearby buildings. He'd ask if anyone had seen anyone outside at this hour, what that person looked like. Ask if they knew where they went. It would all be okay because he would be calm and professional because Edward was not Mustang son and was only his subordinate and that was the exent of their relationship. He didn't need to get so worked up. He wasn't Edward's father.

Ed was still the son he'd never had.

Each empty alley Mustang walked down built on the pent-up tension inside him. What if a chimera took him by surprise? What if he found Edward dead? Dying? The thoughts kept coming, panicking and struggling, fighting with cold logic to overflow the barriers of Mustang's patience.

"Ed!" He called, knowing it was probably in vain and that there would be no response. "Edward! Fullmetal!"

A noise; a response? Mustang reeled in panic as he saw the blood on the ground, dribbling in a long trail across the pavement. It was fresh. Soon the drops grew into thick smears on the ground, over dumpsters, around corners. A dead end. A limp body splayed face-down on the pavement. Mustang stomach did a jarring somersault. He felt ill.

He rushed into the alley. He removed his gloves and pressed his desperately against the cold, limp wrist. Then just below the jaw. He put his ear to the cold, skinny chest, up to the pale, bloodstained lips. So cold, no pulse, no heartbeat, no rush of breath; dead.

No, that was wrong. The blood was fresh, still flowing. There was no way a dead body could become that cold and still be bleeding so profusely, right? He couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible.

Then it hit him with staggering force; just how emaciated and broken Edward's tiny body was: his pallor, translucent skin draped over sharply jutting bones, to the point that Roy could see the patterns of the lean muscles bulging beneath as the thin skin was stretched to its limit. His dirty fingernails were long and ragged, wrists chaffed bare and raw by what could only be assumed to be manacles. His arms battered with welts and cuts and bruises, some leaking dark blood, others oozing a dark, tar-like substance that Roy knew couldn't be natural, let alone healthy. Matted, dirty hair hung loose and spilled out like a halo around Edward's head, making him seem even more exposed and vulnerable. Ed's body was completely ravaged, ruined and destroyed. How could this even be Edward? How could this be how he died?

Mustang knelt down by the unmoving body, checking for signs of life yet again, just to be sure, even knowing that his attempts were futile. Then, as his fingers found their way to feel for the pulse at the jugular vein, there was a noise; feral, unearthly, a rolling, hungry rattle, somewhere between a growl and a whimper and a chitter. Despite the pure wrongness of the sound, Mustang felt misplaced hope rise in his chest as it swelled and vibrated against his gently prodding fingers; it was still Edward's voice, through the obvious inhumanity sent involuntary shivers crawling up his spine.

"Ed?" He whispered dryly, hope growing in his chest until he thought his heart might burst.

The noise only intensified, a pale hand reaching up, fingers curling into claws around Mustang's arm. A rush of fear shot through him; he'd been stupid, he didn't even think to read the document, to find out exactly what had been done before approaching. Whoever ran that lab had been trying to create a human weapon, of course they must've messed with Edward's brain- what if he didn't recognize Mustang? What if he was a chimera now, reduced to little more than primal urges an instincts? What if he saw Mustang as his prey, to be killed and eaten?

There were too many questions at once, but before Roy could push them away, a sharp jerk to his arm snapped him back to reality. Ed's eyes were squinted shut, tears outlined in dirt streaming down his pale cheeks. His lip was curled back, baring wicked teeth. He squrimed away with strangled mewls of fear, desperately pushing Mustang away.

Roy felt his heart skip a beat as those eyes opened to their full size, crazed and full of such an un-Ed-like emotion he almost couldn't believe it, such crushing fear crashing like tidal waves through those inhuman, violet eyes. This fear wasn't the sharp, passing terror of a life-or-death situation, no, it was anxious, anticipating fear, nervous, the kind seen in the eyes of abused dogs.

The worst thing about it, Mustang realized, was that Edward Elric, once strong and confident, good-naturedly brash, cocky and cynical, was one and the same as this broken thing before his eyes. And even worse, this terrifed, savage animal was afraid of him.

"Edward," he soothed, holding a hand out, palm-up, the way one would do for dogs to become familiar with foreign people's scents. "it's me, Mustang, Roy Mustang. Do you remember me? Can you recognize me?"

The thing bit his lip, sending a fresh stream of blood trickling down his chin, entire body trembling with fear and pain. Everything hurt, his chest and his stomach and his eyes and his tongue, his arms and legs and brain and heart. It hurt to exist. He wanted to die. Why wouldn't he die?

"Stay..." Mustang's eyes lit up just a little. "a...way..." He promptly deflated, only edging closer.

"Come on now Ed, it's me, Colonel Bastard?"

"I said... get... a...way..." Ed hissed, trembling even more violently as he doubled over, huge gobs of half-congealed blood erupting from his mouth, dribbling messily onto the pavement. His eyes were suddenly filled with hatred, a blistering, primal wrath Mustang couldn't recognize. "Get... AWAY!"

Roy obliged, slowly putting his hands up and stepping back. "I'm away now, Fullmetal. Please, just let me help you. You're gonna die if you don't let me do something."

"Good," some part of Edward couldn't help but revel in Mustang's confused fear as he let out a strangled, maniac laugh. "I... want... to die..."

"God dammit, Fullmetal! Let go of your goddamn fucking pride and let me help you!"

Edward stopped laughing, brow furrowed as though in confusion as he cocked his head. "But... if I... die..." His violet eyes narrowed, glowing with renewed hatred, "it won't hurt... any...more."

Mustang's hard, dark eyes softened as he stared at the bleeding, trembling thing in front of him. He wanted to be euthanized, to die, to end his pain and to end his life. "I can't let you die." He finally growled, fists tightening at his sides. "What about your friends and family? What about Alphonse and Winry and Miss Pinako? Are you just going to up and die and leave them alone here? They love you. Complete strangers showed up for your funeral. I can't just let you give up when there are so many people who love and miss you."

"Funeral?"

"Yes, Fullmetal. Funeral." Mustang decided it was safe to come closer and knelt down so he could be at eye level with Edward. "Do you know how long it's been?"

The creature's eyes actually darkened with shame. He shook his head slowly, visibly tiring as he let himself splay back down on the pavement. "No."

Mustang pushed his luck, gently putting his arms around Ed's limp shoulders. The boy's emaciated frame visibly tensed, but didn't resist as Mustang picked him up. He was so light, jagged bones digging sharply into Mustang's arms. "Three months," Roy said softly, cradling Edward bridal-style in his arms and walking to the nearest payphone.

It was soul-crushing. Had he been in his right mind, there was absolutely no way Edward would have tolerated this kind of contact, but now, he buried his face into Mustang's chest, clinging to him for dear life. He had no idea what to do with himself, what he was or why he'd done what he'd done, why he was suddenly so weak or why he'd wanted to tear his savior's windpipe out mere moments before. His head spun just thinking about it. It hurt to exist.

He was dimly aware of Mustang's warm arms disengaging from their gentle contact. There was a cool, hard surface under him. A moment of silence. Hushed phrases, protective and urgent. His brain was too muddled to make out the words. It was Mustang talking, he knew. Another voice, familiar, soft. Staticky? Over a phone? Right, the payphone. A woman?

Mustang stopped talking. Ed whimpered. The sudden abscence of the soothing baritone voice made him uneasy. Mustang was safe and warm and he would protect Edward from all of the guns and needles and cages in the world, no matter what.

"Edward?"

The boy found alertness return to him at the sound of his name, faltering gaze sliding groggily back up to Mustang. He let out a small sound of acknowledgment, just to make sure Mustang knew he'd heard.

"You remember Lieutenant Hawkeye, right?"

Ed nodded feebly up at Mustang, the act of forming words on his thick tongue too much for his exaustion to handle. He couldn't help but feel hurt. Mustang was talking to him like he would to a small child, acting as though even basic memories and understandings were beyond his capacity. Despite everything, he wasn't broken; just bent, and determined to prove his wholeness.

He was tired, having spent too long running on fumes, the terrified adrenaline had left his system, leaving him barely able to lift his head. He felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye's coming," said Mustang, voice low and soothing and deliberate, "in a car, with a doctor. She's gonna come to take you to the hospital so the doctor can fix you, okay?"

Ed sighed softly, shivering. "O-okay..." He paused, suddenly terrified. "But don't... don't leave me."

His blurred and faltering vision caught Mustang's pale face above him through half-lidded eyes. He sighed again and let out a small noise of relief as Mustang's arms scooped him up again, strong and warm and safe.

"I'd never leave you," Roy consoled softly, "especially not like this. I promise."

Ed nodded again, letting his exausted muscles fall limp in Mustang's gentle grip. He was tired, more than he'd ever been in his life. He let his consciousness slip away, welcoming the warm embrace of sleep. The hospital sounded good, safe. They would have blankets there, too.

He woke again to the sound of a steady, low rumbling around him. His muddled brain eventually processed that it was the sound of a car's engine. He probably would have figured it out sooner had he the energy to force his heavy eyelids open. There were voices, but he was still too tired to bother attempting to understand their words. He let it dissolve into nonsense in his ears, once or twice picking up his name. Mustang's arms were still wrapped firmly around him, along with something else, soft. A blanket?

Sleep overtook him once again. He let out a low noise of contentment as his fleeting wakefulness retreated. His body still hurt, but much less than before, he was warm and safe and surrounded by Mustang's gentle embrace. He trusted Mustang.

Now there was a low, mechanical humming. Hushed, urgent voices. Mustang's was among them, but his embrace was gone. Ed managed to pry his eyes open this time. A white ceiling above him. He was lying on his back. His throat and mouth were dry. He was hungry. His gaze drifted to Mustang's blue military uniform standing beside him.

He was laying on... a bed? No, a stretcher, maybe? It was somewhat warm and soft beneath him, but he felt uneasy. He could smell antiseptic, and the scents of people he couldn't recognize. Mustang's mildy smoky, spicy aroma was faint.

Panic rose sharply in him as someone else, someone unfamilar, began to pick him up. He snarled, struggling weakly against the pale-clothed arms that secured him. He snapped his teeth in vain, vision too blurry to properly distinguish between his pale surroundings and the pale clothing and gloves of this person's arms. He whined, high-pitched and desperate, trembling.

It was just like the other lab, the sterile white room in the vast warehouse. They'd strap him down and open him up and-

"Fullmetal!" He promptly went limp at the sharp tone of Mustang's voice, still shaking. Was Mustang angry with him? Had he done something he couldn't remember, like he did in the warehouse? Something the other people had made him do?

He cringed away from Mustang's touch, continuing to whine softly as his arms wrapped around him. They carried him for a little bit, the gentle rhythm of Mustang's heartbeat beginning to sooth him.

"I'm s-sorry..." he whimpered desperately into the older man's chest. Mustang couldn't stay angry at him! He couldn't stay angry! "I'm sorry... I'm s-sorry..."

He stiffened as an unfamiliar hand gently stroked his dirty hair. "Don't be, Ed," came the soft, even voice. Lieutenant Hawkeye? She smelled slightly of gunpowder and metal, but also faintly sweet, earthy, motherly. She smelled almost as safe as Mustang. "it's not your fault. You've been through a lot, and you have every right to not want to trust us."

Her voice was reassuring, but the twinge of hurt returned to his chest. She was worse than Mustang. Did they think he was suddenly a little kid again? Edward growled softly into Mustang's chest. He could sense Mustang's unease as soon as he began and abruptly swallowed the noise.

"Sorry." he whimpered one more time, closing his eyes.

"It's okay," Mustang soothed, gently massaging one of Ed's bony hands with his thumb. When had he become so gentle?

He squirmed uneasily, still not entirely sure. They might still strap him down and open him up and test his reactions to drugs. They still might hurt him and label him and put him in a cage. They might brand him. They might make him fight chimera for entertainment. They could do anything they wanted to him and he would be helpless to do anything about it.

But he trusted Hawkeye. He trusted Mustang.

"Hey Alphonse?" Winry managed to ask at the dinner table, having finally cleaned up her act - both mentally and physically - and ready to speak to Al.

"What?" He sounded sad.

Winry nervously poked her fork at the good on her plate. "I'm sorry, about what I said before."

"No no- yeah, no, it's fine." She wasn't convinced. He was too selfless for his own good, but a terrible liar. Everyone knew it.

"Can I ask you something?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Where were you a few days ago? You didn't show up for dinner, and I didn't really realize until the next morning. I sort of just assumed that you'd already gone to bed."

"The river," Alphonse answered simply, taking a bite of his food and chewing slowly. "I was just thinking about stuff, is all."

"Oh."

The sharp ringing of the phone cut the conversation short. Winry got up, picking up her plate and fork. She turned into the kitchen and set them hurriedly into the sink, walking over to the phone and picking up. "Rockbell Automail sp-"

"Winry, I need you to come to Central right away, and bring Alphonse. It's urgent; I found him." The commanding baritone voice was unmistakably trembling with emotion.

She choked, dropping the phone. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, eyes suddenly drenched with unshed tears. The phone swing gently on its cord a few inches above the floor. "Oh my god..."

"Hey Winry?" Alphonse called from the table. "Who is it? Is something the matter?"

"It..." She whirled around and ran back into the dining room, not bothering to hang the phone back up. "It's Ed!" She took Alphonse's hands firmly in hers, "They found Ed!"

For a moment, the boy didn't seem to comprehend, but was soon overcome with emotion, pulling Winry into a firm embrace. Tears of joyful relief rolled down his cheeks, body racked with silent sobs. "Brother..." he murmured, choking nearly as badly as Winry. "I can't believe it...

They cleaned up hurriedly and made it to the train station within the hour after recieving directions from Mustang. The ride wasn't long, and had in fact always seemed too short for the distance it traversed, but now seemed to last for years. Alphonse had never been so restless in his entire life.

He dragged Winry by the arm through the thin crowd that left and boarded the train, off the platform and across the street, straight for the hospital the colonel had directed them to.

They showed their identification and checked in as quickly as civillians could, practically begging to be shown to Edwards room. A nurse led the way down the sterile white hallways, stopping before a door. He warned them not to make too much noise before turning back down the hall towards the front desk.

Alphonse felt a tight anxiety building in his chest. Mustang had said that Edward was in bad condition, but how bad was it? Was he missing any more limbs? Was he dying as Al and Winry stood there, dumbfounded, in front of the door? The possibilities were limitless, and not all good.

But it was now or never, and it had to be done. Alphonse pushed the door gently in, wincing as it creaked ever so slightly. Mustang was already in the room, he noted absentmindedly, still not ready to let his gaze fall upon the slight, prone figure stretched under the hospital-issue blankets.

He couldn't resist it, despite his nervous efforts, and looked at his brother. So small and fragile, thin and sickly-looking. His hair had grown some, and was now loose, splayed in a shaggy mane that framed Edward's pale face. Alphonse could see some of his bones through the thin blankets, especially as he began to stir slightly. He couldn't comprehend how this could have happened.

Winry's blue eyes were glazed with shock. She walked slowly closer, reluctant. Alphonse subtly egged her on, stepping up behind her. His hazel eyes flew to Mustang for reassurance.

"How could this happen?" Winry breathed, horrified. "How can this be?"

Alphonse found his gaze drawn back to Ed like a magnet. He came as quickly as he dared over to the side of the hospital bed, picking up one of the chairs from one side of the room and set it gently beside the bed. He reached out tentatively, quickly flinching away as Ed twitched suddenly. Each breath he took seemed unbearably loud, especially compared to Edward's hushed, barely audiable breathing, his chest hardly raising as he inhaled.

His clammy, warm hands suddenly found their way to Ed's cold, bony ones. Something inside him died as he felt that cold, fingers gently tracing both the scars that were old as well as the freshly scabbed over wounds. Regardless, both were new to his eyes.

"Brother," he managed to murmur, choked and horrified. How could this be his big brother? The boy who'd once been so confident, strong, indestructable and unmovable as a mountain himself? How could this be him?

His eyes were closed, but the scent was strong. Warm, faintly metallic and soft. Even more so was the overpowering reek of human fear. It made him feel strangely excited, euphoric. Ed pushed that part of him down into his subconscious. He knew who it was, he would recognize these scents anywhere. He felt a slight shudder crawl down his spine.

He felt warm hands on his, gently rubbing his frigid skin. Slowly, his own fingers curled around the hands. They were Alphonse's hands, he was sure.

Edward immediately sensed the rush of excitement that radiated from his younger brother, smiling inwardly. He didn't dare peel his eyes open or utter a word. He wanted things to stay just as they were, comfortably silent; understanding and warm.

Mere human contact suddenly meant so much. For the longest time he'd taken it for granted, but now that he'd been deprived of it for so long, Ed vowed never to forget what it meant to him, ever.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by Ed's soft sigh of contentment. Al's hands were soft, and warm. He knew his were not. He knew his were like ice. Was Alphonse scared of him, of his cold hands?

Edward suddenly found himself shaking uncontrollably, grip tightening on Al's hands. He pulled away briefly to prop himself up into a sitting-up position. He let his eyes open, but only half-lidded, reluctant to make eye contact lest Alphonse not recognize those eyes.

"Brother?" the younger Elric questioned tentatively, leaning in closer to Ed's face.

Gaze boring unseeingly through the wall, it took all of Edward's self control not to growl at Alphonse. When had he become so... basic? How had it gotten this bad? Was it even alright? Why would he even have the most primal of urges to do that in the first place, to his little brother of all people?

"Ed?"

He recognized that voice right away; Winry. He still stared through the wall. He couldn't let them see the struggle in his eyes. They would hate him. They would probably be afraid, too.

The silence only thickened. He sensed even greater unease from Alphonse, bordering on distress. He found himself shaking even worse. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, not cooperating, not moving right against the suddenly foreign surface of his teeth. The best he could manage was a low, whimpering moan.

"Brother?" Alphonse repeated. This time, there was hope in his voice.

"Al...phonse..." Ed murmured, grip tightening further on his little brother's wrist.

"It's me, brother, I promise! It's me!"

Since when did he need reassuring like this? "Al..." The thick stench of fear grew, but much to Edward's relief, it seemed to be more anxiety and anticipation of his next words that actual fear of him.

Unfortunately, along with the scent, the powerful need inside him to growl or bite or hiss grew as well. He silenced himself as best he could, whimpering. He would not scare Alphonse away, he was better than this!

"Brother? Edward? What is it?"

Ed reached out further, abandoning Alphonse's hands to grip his shoulders, pulling him into a firm embrace. He realized too late that Alphonse was shaking, too. He was terrified.

He forced his tongue to obey his commands, "I'm sorry. I... I just can't."

"You can't what?" said Winry softly, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed as Ed's arm's went limp around Alphonse.

"Go back..." He held his arm- the right one, the one that shouldn't have been of flesh, but of steel- out in front of him, examining it. "not ever."

"Go back to what, brother?" came Al's soft inquiry.

Ed ignored the question. "I'm not even sure..." He paused thoughtfully, biting his lip. "I'm not even sure if I'm..." he swallowed the lump rising in his throat. "if I'm real."

Alphonse put his hand on the outstretched limb. "Of course you're real, brother. Why wouldn't you be?"

"I can't remember. I can't remember where I got this arm. I can't remember how I got like this. I can't... I can't do anything... I'm-"

"I want you to shut the hell up and never talk like that again!" Roy suddenly snapped.

Ed jumped. He'd nearly forgotten that Mustang was in the room.

The colonel moved from his spot leaning against the wall to come up beside Al. He took Ed hard by the wrist. "You listen to me, Fullmetal," said Mustang, anger in his voice, "you're being a selfish, spoiled brat! Your brother was ruined as soon as you went missing; do you know what that's like? The dearest person in the world to you, gone overnight! Think about it!"

Alphonse raised his hand to interrupt. "Colonel," he said softly, feeling concern behind the anger in Mustang's tone, "please don't be so upset with brother; I understand that whatever it is that he's gone through has really upset him, and the only way to make it any bettter is to talk abou-"

"Really? He didn't once say he missed you! He needs to look beyond himself and think about your feelings!"

"Colonel, I don't know why you're suddenly so angry, but I never said I missed him, either. You know why?"

Mustang remained silent, fuming. He didn't quite understand why he was so furious either, but there was something off he'd just noticed about Ed that set his temper suddenly ablaze. Something he didn't trust, something that overpowered his concern for Edward's wellbeing. He would figure it out, he was sure. He had to.

"It's because it's something that doesn't need to be said. It's something we feel between each other, and understand."

Roy scowled and stepped back. He could see Ed had stopped shaking. Was that a smile dancing on his lips?

"But," Ed said, suddenly sounding a lot more like himself and a lot less like a terrified, starving animal with a bullet through his shoulderblade, "selfish'r not, I did miss you, Al."

"I missed you too, brother. We all did."

Edward suddenly swung his legs over the side of the bed, scooching over so he was in between Alphonse and Winry. He winced slightly as he settled, reaching down to feel at the bandages that had been wound around his abdomen.

"What even happened to you?" asked Winry, fingering the edge of the sling that supported his limp left arm, "And how the hell did you get your arm back?"

The golden-haired teen shrugged. "I'm not even sure." His nonchalance quickly vanished, his tone turning defensive. "There are lots of gaps, though; things I can't remember."

"Oh."

Something suddenly dawned on Edward. "C-colonel?" he asked, blinking expectantly up at his ex-commanding officer.

"What?" the angry edge was gone from his voice. That was good.

"Did... did anyone else get out of the... the lab? Did anyone else escape?"

Mustang arched an eyebrow. "Yes, actually."

Ed's eyes lit up. Mustang still didn't trust their sharp violet hue or narrow, diamond-shaped pupils. He couldn't quite place where he'd seen those eyes before, telling himself that it was just his imagination.

Even so, things were questionable.

"So," said Edward, leaning eagerly forward, "who was it? Was there more than one person?" His questions were nervous, almost guilty. Mustang would have to keep an eye on that.

"Again, actually yes. Two girls."

"What were their n-names?" Yep, undoubtedly guilty.

Mustang shrugged. "I talked to one, said her name was Kamina. The other girl, I think she mentioned, was called... uh... Fiona, maybe...?" He paused, waiting for Edward to blurt out the name.

And right on cue, "Felice?" Ed immediately clapped his hands over his mouth as soon as the name slid from his tongue.

"Do some bonding in there?"

The teen nodded shyly as Mustang's suspicion grew. "Yeah. I was cell-mates with K-kamina. Felice was next to us."

"You make it sound like jail," Mustang teased lightly, something in him trying to fool himself into a false sense of normalcy, though the humor in his voice was significantly the lesser to their usual banter.

Ed shrugged. "Could I see them? I want to know the both of them're alright, if that's okay."

"You can see them," Mustang said, mind already made up, "but I'm not letting you for at least another week. You're in no condition to be walking around. Your shoulder is completely wrecked and you've got some nasty flesh wounds, not to mention whatever internal damage had you spitting up your guts when I found you."

He made a mental note to get some kind of check on the aforementioned internal damage.

Ed pouted childishly but seemed to relent without a fight. He was probably still too tired to properly argue. "Fine, but I'll heal extra fast so it won't even take a week for me to be back in shape, 'kay?"

"I don't doubt it," Mustang said. He didn't trust this at all.

Edward seemed satisfied, sighing with relief. He leaned over so his head rested on Alphonses's shoulder, burying his nose into his younger brother's neck. Alphonse seemed only slightly put off, putting his arms lovingly around his big brother.

"Thanks for comin'," he said softly, his exaustion resurfacing as he yawned.

Alphonse was definitely more than a little put off at the sight of Ed's pointed teeth, though he said nothing. "Why're you thanking us?" he asked earnestly, "I don't know about Winry, but I would have died if I didn't get to see you again!"

Edward sighed again. "Means a lot."

"Well," said Winry, making her discomfort more obvious than Al. "you must be real tired, huh, Ed? Why don't we let you rest up a little?"

The elder Elric didn't complain, in fact managing a weak smile. "But make sure you come back, please?"

Even more questionable. There was anxiety in his voice, fear, as if he thought they'd all disappear should they remain out of his sight for too long. "Of course, Fullmetal," said Mustang, "I expect you to hold your word. Be up and around by the end of the week, if you can."

Ed's half-smile grew into a lopsided, teasing smirk. "Yes sir."

There was longing, Mustang noted, in those awful violet eyes as everyone filed out of the room. He turned his gaze straight ahead. There were lots of things he'd need to figure out. He'd need to check out that document, too, before the higher-ups found out and took it away from him.

His chain of thought was promptly interrupted by Winry's nervous inquiry. "Colonel Mustang?" she asked, quickening her pace to meet Roy's.

"Yeah?"

"You said, on the phone, before Al and I got on the train, and Ed mentioned it, too, that he escaped from a... a lab?"

"That's right," Roy replied tersely. "what of it?"

Winry was somehow able to shift nervously whilst her pace increased to a light jog to keep up with Mustang. "Is he... y'know, a chimera, or something?"

"As far as I understand, no." He paused, "But I still don't know for sure, so it's a definite possibility."

"But if he's not a chimera... then why were his teeth like... the way they were?" she lowered her voice and added, "Like a beartrap, actually."

"I can't say," said Mustang, "it's really not clear. I found some files in the lab. Looked like they were trying to make some kind of human weapon out of him." He turned to Winry with a humorless smirk. "Besides, if he were a chimera, do you really think he wouldn't have a tail or any scales or fins or whatever the hell else rubbed off from what he was fused with?"

"Yeah, but he had the teeth."

"And the eyes," Alphonse put in with a slight shudder.

If anyone had told Mustang that he would see Alphonse Elric shudder with fear at the mere thought of his older brother, he would have thought they were completely insane. The day Al feared Ed the way he seemed to now would be the day a stalk of celery would learn to fly and become a trilingual laser-shooting supervegetable. It simply wouldn't happen. Or, so he'd thought.

Roy nodded as he turned down the hall into his office. "I think it's safe to assume that there were specific areas these people were aiming to 'modify.' Night vision, or something, probably."

Alphonse nodded. Winry did, too. Mustang could see the trepidation in both their eyes. They were afraid of what might have happened to Ed. They were scared for him, but not only that, it was easy to tell that they were also scared of him.

And he didn't blame them one bit.

But it seemed clear that, regardless of what he had come to look like, Edward meant no harm. He wanted to help, to be with them and to protect them, perhaps to make up for his inability to protect himself.

It was quite interesting, actually. Mustang settled himself at his desk. "You two can do what you want. Watch Fullmetal sleep, go out and grab some food- if you do, make sure you get something for him, too, he's probably hungry. I have some things I need to look into."

Alphonse nodded. He could see the absentminded I'm-not-quite-paying-attention state of mind through Mustang's voice as his eyes traveled down a piece of paper he'd taken from his pocket. "Okay."

"Okay." Winry nodded, too. She could see it as well. Mustang wasn't quite with them at the moment.

The both of them walked out, still in some kind of shock from all the information they had yet to process. They had grasped plantatively at normalcy when they'd first seen Ed, but the gravity of the situation had had yet to sink in. It seemed now that nothing would ever be normal again.

Ed buried his face into his pillow with a soft sigh. It had felt good to see his family again, to breath in their familiar, soothing scents. It was something the lab had sorely lacked, reeking of death and blood and chemicals, the rot in the moldy air of novice alchemists' failed experiments.

The hospital, despite smelling strongly of antiseptic and latex- just like the sterile part of the warehouse had- was undoubtedly Edward's preference. It smelled safe and warm because of the soothing scents, not just of his visiting family and friends, but also of the kind and protective demeanors of his caretakers, the doctors and nurses. He could sense some kind of openness about them that made him want to trust them. In the very least, they made him feel safe, though not completely without suspicion or defense.

Edward sighed again. He rolled over onto his back and held his arm out again. It was paler than he'd ever remembered it, like porcelain, and bony. It was still his arm, though, and he decided he would cherish the flesh and blood that had been restored to him, perhaps only by some accident of fate.

Yes, perhaps by this accident, things would finally be close to normal again, before that day he and his brother had made their fatal mistake. He could be completely human again; no longer part machine, and Alphonse was already finally freed of the iron prison that had once housed his soul. Perhaps normalcy was right outside the stuffy hospital room, mere steps away, waiting for him to regain the strength to reach it.

If only things were that easy. Despite the fog that had clouded his brain, Edward could remember what he'd done that night, the night he was finally liberated from his torture in the lab. That liberation had brought choice, and with that choice, euphoria of the worst kind.

Edward Elric, with all his history of being moral and just, a spokesman of the people and defender of the innocent, in all honesty, had simply lost himself. There was nothing else to it, he decided. The sudden ability to do what he wanted rather than mindlessly obey orders in the hopes that he wouldn't be further abused that day had flooded him with some kind of adrenaline-based drug, and he'd lost himself in its power.

He had become something else, something that scared him more than any weapon. His actions not only frightened him, but brought forth some part of him that insisted on their moral wrongness in a way that was almost nonchalant. What scared him more still was that, even now, as he mulled over those actions in the hospital bed, he had to struggle to feel any kind of feelings about it at all. What was scary was that he found that he found that he could feel no remorse, no shame, only the alarm bells in his brain telling him that he could be punished for doing it.

It was disgusting, really. He was disgusting.

It remained even scarier, that even without guilt, he found that he couldn't feel happy or proud of his actions. They had satisfied his gluttonous lust and that was all, like a tool to be thrown away. She had satisfied his lust, like a tool.

Disgusting.

Edward found himself yanked sharply from his sulking by the knocking at the door.

"Can I come in?"

Ed couldn't place the voice at the moment and felt too tired to answer, so he didn't. Instead, he curled into a ball under the sheets, pretending to be asleep. Go away, he tried to will them to do so to no avail.

"Colonel Mustang sent me, he said you were someone I might wanna see, or that you might wanna see me...?" The door creaked open. Edward felt his stomach turn sharply as another familiar scent reached his nose. It was so close to being hers.

Edward shot into a sitting up position on his bed, senses on fire, tingling. He felt strangely threatened despite knowing that he shouldn't be, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling and standing on end.

"K-kamina!" he snapped suddenly, barely able to make sense of his own suddenly jumbled thoughts.

The girl in question poked her head in through the door, now left ajar. Her eyes widened until Ed thought they might burst from their sockets. "Monster..." she breathed, voice trembling.

Edward stiffened further, the prickling sensation spreading down his back. There was a brief moment of tense silence as the pent-up energy expelled itself through a racking shudder. He gasped, beginning to hyperventilate, lungs feeling too small to supply him with the air he needed.

"I..." he bit his lip, struggling to steady himself. There was some kind of twisted euphoria as his fanged teeth easily broke the skin. His tongue flicked involuntarily out, eagerly lapping at his own blood with a mind of its own. He wanted there to be more. He wanted it to be hers.

He swallowed hard, putting a hand up to his mouth as he tried desperately to still the impulse. He shuddered, screwing his eyes shut, embarassed at his own weakness.

"Monster..." Kamina repeated. Was that concern in her voice? What reason would she ever have to be concerned for him? "Why do you want me here?"

Edward sighed and hunched protectively over himself, wiping the blood from his lips and staining the pale skin of his arm. "I know it's probably worth nothing, and it'll make me seem like an even bigger dick than I know you already think I am, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did."

Kamina seemed a bit taken aback. "You're what?"

"I'm sorry, okay?! I'm a huge dick and a monster and I'm sorry!"

"What's your real name?"

Ed choked on his own desperate gasping as he began to hyperventilate again. "I'm... I'm s-so sor-sorry! I don't... I can't!" He couldn't help but blush as he felt tears pricking at his eyes, not bothering to wipe them away as they came loose down his cheeks.

Much to his surprise, Kamina came and sat on the bed next to Edward. She tentatively reached out, clasping his hands in hers. "Please don't cry. It's not like you."

He gasped, blinking owlishly up at her. "What do y-you mean?"

"You don't strike me as a crybaby. Straighten up!" She actually slapped him.

Kamina's sternness helped some. Ed wiped his expression blank, clearing his mind and silently punishing himself for losing control. "S-sorry," he deadpanned, voice icily calm as he rubbed the numbly sore spot on his cheek. "I think the painkillers are making me crazy."

"Right." She definitely preffered the blubbering mess Ed had just abandoned moments ago and definitely regretted telling him to "straighten out."

"My name's Edward," he said, still impassive, violet eyes fixed on something beyond the door that no one else could see, trancelike. "Edward Elric."

Kamina gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. "You mean... the Edward Elric? The Fullmetal alchemist?!"

Ed nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching restlessly. "That's me. The Fullmetal alchemist. Whoop-dee-fuckin'-do."

Kamina stared at him, cheeks suddenly ruddy. "You did... you're not... you can't be. You're a monster."

Edward stared at her a little longer before speaking again. "I didn't notice." He sighed and paused for a moment. "Sorry again. That was rude. I think I'm reducing the impact of the point I was originally attempting to make."

"You're sorry?" It was almost scary, how utterly not-Ed he was, unpredictable and swinging between distant moods with minimal provocation.

"Yeah," bingo, his voice just broke. "I really am, more than I know how to express."

Kamina narrowed her eyes. She slapped him again. "You really are a dick."

"A bit of a clusterfuck," Ed agreed, laughing emptily. His expression promptly went blank again as soon as he was done. "But please, tell... tell Felice I'm sorry. As soon as Colonel Bastard lets me outta this place, tellin' it to her face'll be the first thing I do, but for now..."

"Fine." Kamina nodded slightly, "But it doesn't mean anything."

"Thanks. I think that's the first time I've really laughed in a long time."

But it wasn't really a laugh, didn't he see? It wasn't real.


End file.
